


Talk About It

by ShannonPhillips



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShannonPhillips/pseuds/ShannonPhillips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How will you ever learn to pleasure each other unless you talk about it?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk About It

_Warnings: Fully consensual, but the characters engage in a rape fantasy_

Alistair woke as Elissa slipped into the tent after her watch and listened, still half-asleep, as she stripped off her leathers. He rolled over to make room for her under the furs, and wrapped his arms around her when she slid in beside him.

"Are you awake?" she breathed, unnecessarily.

"Mm-hmm," he said, pulling her warm, naked body closer.

"I was thinking about something."

"Tell me," he said muzzily.

"Something you and Zevran were talking about earlier."

He cast his mind back. Had the assassin had anything to say that wasn't purely to taunt him?

_You are... feeling all right, yes? Perhaps you are tired? I have some roots from home that you may chew if you need energy. As for volume, perhaps you ought to try arching your--_

No. She couldn't mean that. Could she?

"The thing is," Elissa said hesitantly, "I think he was right."

"Really," Alistair managed. "Which...which part?"

"About us...talking. How did he put it--' _how will you ever learn to pleasure each other unless you talk about it?_ '"

"I--" Alistair stuttered. "I--didn't realize you weren't--pleasured."

She smacked him, lightly, on the shoulder. "I am," she said. "Of course I am, you know that. I just think we could...well, talk. About it."

He pulled away, a little bit, trying to read what he could of her face in the darkness. "What, do you want me to...chew herbs?"

" _No_ ," she said. "Don't be ridiculous. That was just Zevran being a prat. You have--you have all the stamina any man could need."

Alistair let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Because if you wanted it to...go longer...I mean, there are templar techniques for calming the mind. I don't actually need herbs to make that happen. If you wanted. It didn't seem...necessary."

She laughed outright. "Templar techniques? Maker, no, I don't want you picturing the Grand Cleric naked--or, or reciting the Chant backward in your head--or whatever. I'm afraid to ask, truly. No, I want you...swept up by passion. I love that. And anyway, maybe they're used to hours-long sex romps in Antiva--what am I saying, of course they are--but after a long day fighting darkspawn what I mostly want is a quick release. You know?"

He lay his head back down beside hers. "What about my 'volume'?" he asked drily. "Are you satisfied with my 'volume'?"

"Stop it," she laughed. "Of course I don't care about that. How would I even _know_? I don't sit there and...examine it."

"But if you had to guess."

"It's fine. Your volume is fine. Voluminous. What do you want me to say? Your seed could support ten men on a forced march through the desert?"

He pulled the furs over his head. "Ew."

"No, I just thought we could talk. You know, about--what you'd like to do to me. What you'd like me to do to you." Her voice dropped, growing husky.

Alistair emerged from under the furs. "Oh," he said. "That sounds...that sounds like it could be nice."

She ran a hand up his arm, skimming lightly over the muscles in his shoulders, and falling back down to draw her palm over his chest. "Is there anything you've--thought about?" she asked haltingly.

"I think about you," he said truthfully. "I've spent a lot of time thinking about you."

"Tell me," she murmured.

"I think about your body under your armor. I think about the way you look when--when I'm taking you, with your hair all spread out and your eyes closed, and you're--you're moaning beneath me--" Alistair swallowed hard. Suddenly he wasn't sleepy at all. He let his own hands wander across her skin, stroking the curve of her waist and hip.

"And when do you think about these things?" she asked, her voice rich with a smile.

"Oh, all the time. When we're walking. When you're talking to people. Not usually _while_ we're killing darkspawn."

"That's probably good."

"But sometimes right afterwards."

"While I'm looting the bodies?" she said, in a tone of scandalized delight.

"Mm," he said, cupping the rounded swell of her ass. "Especially then. You do a lot of bending over, when you're looting the bodies."

"Have you thought about just taking me like that?" she whispered. "Standing up--when I'm bent over--coming to me from behind? Pushing my leathers up and...and ripping off my smallclothes..."

"I will _now_ ," he said, his breath hitching in his throat. "In fact I'm going to have trouble getting that image out of my mind."

"Maybe next time we sense darkspawn," she breathed, "we'll go off and fight them alone. And then...after..."

Alistair pushed himself up on one arm and leaned in to kiss her, hard and intense. Elissa matched his urgency, surging up to press her body against his. He slid his free arm under her shoulders and crushed her against him, kissing her deeply, until she moaned. Then he pulled back just enough to ask, rather smugly: "Did you have any other questions?"

"Oh," she said, "yes, I have lots."

"Uh...really?" he stammered. That was not the answer he'd been anticipating.

"Mm-hmm." She lifted her head to kiss him again, but this time just a short nipping touch of lips and tongue that ended almost as soon as he began to respond. She turned her head, whispering instead into his ear: "I want to know what you think about when you're touching yourself." Her breath against his skin sent shivers through him.

"When I--what makes you think I do _that_?" he said teasingly. "The Chantry says spilled seed feeds the demons, you know."

That pause would be her rolling her eyes. "Well, my brother told me all men do that," Elissa said, "and that's why pesky gadflies of little sisters should never go into somebody's room without knocking."

"Oh, Maker," Alistair laughed. "You _would_ have to be told that. Your poor brother."

"Actually, it wasn't his room," she said. "Poor Ser Gilmore." There was a little hitch in her voice at the end. Alistair pressed a gentle kiss against her cheek. Then he nuzzled at her neck, and when Elissa squirmed deliciously under him he settled in to torment her, nipping and kissing at her soft skin as she writhed and whimpered in pleasure.

"Well, your brother was right," he said finally, relenting. "I have--done that--though not so much as you might think. I wasn't often alone, you know. The Wardens slept in barracks, and so did the templar trainees."

"And what did you think about?" she asked breathlessly. "What did you picture?"

"Naked women," he laughed. "I'm sorry, I know it's not very original."

Elissa pushed at his shoulder, and he yielded, letting her guide him to settle on his back against the furs. She rested her head against his arm, her hand sweeping down his chest and stomach as she asked, " _Particular_ women? Or just...general ones?"

"Particular ones, I suppose--oh. Maker." She'd wrapped her hand around his cock, stroking his length.

"Which ones?" Elissa demanded, and though in the darkness of the tent he couldn't _see_ her evil grin, he nontheless knew it was there.

"All of them," Alistair groaned. "Any girl who was--you know, around--at least, all of the young and pretty ones."

"What, at the same time?" Elissa said archly. Her hand was still moving on his cock with complete assurance. "And who were these women? You told me there weren't many in the Grey Wardens."

"There were--holy sisters--at the monastery, sometimes," Alistair managed. "I never really talked to them. But...yes."

"Holy sisters! You scandalize me," Elissa said happily. "Yes what?"

"Yes," he said, "at the same time."

She released his cock, but only to shift it to her other palm, while her free hand moved between his legs to cup his balls. He gasped as she tugged at him. "Tell me more, Chantry boy," she said huskily.

"I would--Maker, don't stop--I would...imagine...that some of the younger sisters were...as lonely as I was. Burning with the same need. And that they...slaked it...together."

 "Mm," Elissa said softly. "Two luscious bodies intertwined--rosebud lips meeting hungrily--the swell of breast pressed against breast--long shapely legs wrapped around each other--small, soft hands exploring each other's inmost folds--"

Alistair moaned aloud.

"Tell me more," Elissa urged, but he caught her hands, holding them still.

"I think it's your turn," he said. "I want to hear--what you thought about. What secret fantasies were you hiding, when you were a prim and proper noble lady in Highever?"

She laughed, throaty and low, withdrawing her hands. "I was never _that_ ," she said. "I was a rapscallion and a tatterdemalion, and there's no knowing what my lady mother could have been about to allow it, or at least that's what my Nan always said. But yes, I had--fantasies."

Alistair rolled onto his side. "And did you...touch yourself? Here?" He nudged her legs apart, drawing his fingers through the slick wetness at her center.

She drew a shivering breath. "Yes," she said, "like this," and guided his fingers until he found the nubbin of her pleasure. He followed her lead, moving his fingers in tiny circles, slow and gentle at first, but with increasing pressure as she began to lift her hips into his touch.

"And what did you think about?" he asked softly.

"Well--I would...go to the library. Mm, that's nice, right--there. Yes. We had a shelf of Nevarran romances, you see..."

"Really? All we had in the monastery was the Collected Sermons of the Divines. And some history books."

"There's some good stuff in the history books, too, sometimes--oh, Maker."

Alistair bent his head, kissing her chest until he found the hard nipple of one breast, and flicked his tongue over it. "But I want to hear about the Nevarran romances," he said, before returning his mouth to her breast.

"Ohhh," she sighed. "Well, they--they were all the same, in a way. The heroine was always a virtuous noblewoman beset by unwanted suitors, and the hero was a noble too, but usually in disguise or something. And towards the end of the story the heroine would be kidnapped by bandits, or a wicked mage, or a scheming servant, or one of her villanous suitors. And they would rip her clothes, and...and plunder her innocent mouth with their rapacious kisses."

"Mmm," said Alistair, still sucking and tugging and her breast, as her hips bucked beneath the touch of his fingers.

"And then," Elissa sighed, "the hero would come and rescue her."

Alistair lifted his head. "And claim his hero's reward?"

"No. Well, I mean, yes, they were married, but the books always ended there. There was no actual...fucking."

Alistair slid two slick fingers inside her hot cunt, and was rewarded with her sharp gasp of delight. "That seems--wrong," he said. "It makes villainry sound more fun."

"Yes, exactly," Elissa managed, then turned her head and moaned as Alistair withdrew his fingers only to plunge them inside her once more. He swept his thumb over the little nubbin he'd been teasing, and the sound she made then made him throb with arousal.

"I--" Elissa gasped. "I used to imagine what would happen if--if the hero didn't come in time. If the villain got to have his way with her. I used to imagine it was me--helpless, and--ravished."

Alistair snorted. "It's hard to imagine you helpless."

"Really?" she breathed. "Because you're very strong. Much stronger than me. If you wanted to, right now, you could--you could do anything you wanted to me, and I couldn't stop you."

"Of course you could," he said gently, pulling his hand away. "You could say, 'Alistair, stop.' That would do it."

She made a noise of frustration. "You're not getting into the spirit of this, my dear."

"Oh, sorry," he said. "Am I the villainous suitor, then?"

"I think you're the bandit lord," she said, with a smile in her voice. "And I'm the merchant princess whose entirely ineffectual protests you shall cruelly ignore, as you have your wicked way with me."

Alistair obediently gave her his best evil laugh. "Mwah ha ha hah hah!"

"Oh, you bad, bad man," Elissa said, balling one hand into a fist and striking him very lightly in the shoulder. "Unhand me at once, I demand it."

He caught her wrist and pressed it back against the furs. "There's no-one to save you now, princess," he said, and kissed her savagely. She whimpered in protest, squirming a little, so he pinned her with the weight of his body, and continued...plundering her mouth with his rapacious kisses.

It was surprisingly arousing, taking her so roughly, partly because she quickly gave up the illusion of struggle and simply mewled in shameless need as he kicked her legs apart. He forced himself inside her in one strong thrust, pausing only to judge her response (intense) before withdrawing to slam into her again. She arched her back and cried out so loudly that he was afraid she'd wake the camp, so he pressed a hand over her mouth and continued to pound her. She met him with each thrust, making stifled noises against his hand.

"Methinks the virtuous princess is truly a wanton slut," he growled.

She tugged at the hand he had pinned, so he loosed it, and she slid it between their bodies, rubbing at herself as he fucked her. "Yes," she moaned against him, "yes, take me, rape me, please..."

He fucked her in a brutal rhythm, fast and hard, and was just starting to recite the Chant in his mind when she threw back her head and screamed in passion, shuddering against him. He let himself go then, spending himself inside her with a final thrust.

When he'd come back to himself she was quiet beneath him, holding him tightly. He pressed gentle kisses into the curve of her neck and shoulder. "I love you, Elissa, I love you," he whispered.

"I love you," she breathed. "Thank you. That was wonderful." As he rolled off her, she added: "Maybe next time I can be the corrupt and shameless holy sister, and you the poor initiate who has to try and resist my seduction..."

Alistair wrapped an arm around her, and she nestled her head against his shoulder. "I hope I don't have to try very hard," he said. "I was never what you'd call a model initiate."

***

"So, my friend," Zevran commented, as they trudged up the mountain road, "Last night, while I was on watch I thought I heard our fearless leader scream."

"Did you?" Alistair said, coloring a little. "Well, we have...nightmares, you know. It's a Grey Warden thing."

"Is that so? I was afraid there might be darkspawn in your tent."

"No," said Alistair. "No darkspawn."

"Ah, good. And in truth, I have never heard her scream like that--at darkspawn."

"I'm still not talking about this with you," Alistair said.

"My dear friend," laughed Zevran, "I believe I have said enough."


End file.
